What It Means To Be Made Whole
The Female Gaze, Christina Mokwa + Katherine Alt (2025)
Digital collage
What It Means to Be Made Whole
(in 500 Words or Less)
To be made whole is to be clear of debts, both real and imagined –– psychic and personal // to be whole means to walk to shores of the island with nothing to fear // To be whole means to see dreams that defined you both destroyed and realized –– and to smile either way.
To be whole means to let go of the man who raped you.
To be whole is to turn over the sand-laden hourglass each day with gusto // to be whole is to hug your mother longer — as you feel her figure age and wither –– taking in her changing smell.
To be whole is to litter the cat on your lap with kisses without moving him // to be whole is to need nothing beyond your own skin.
To be whole is to know the call of the mourning dove from the saddle –– savoring the salt pine of the Oregon coast –– to feel the heat of the horse beneath you, opening thick lashes in absolute synchrony.
To be whole is to weep for your unborn son –– all of your non-, almost-, husbands.
To be whole is to chuck the phone in the lake, unceremoniously, and with great force — the eyes of the child inside you twinkling mischief.
To be whole is to sit at the movie theatre completely content, sated by your own solitary company // to be whole is to practice the art of Zetsu –– scared art of seeing without being seen.
To be whole is loving the you of now — your unremarkable eye color, your questionable weight, the streaks of russet in your hair you got teased for in second grade.
To be whole is to accept the call of birth –– to laugh in the house on Christmas, even though the gathering is small // to be whole is to look at your grandfather’s picture in the frame and to feel his glowing pride — even through the ether.
To be whole is going to the wedding, even as you know the marriage will fail –– and that in 18 to 32 months, you will be on your girlfriend’s floor, listening to her Ceremony and Violator albums, straight vodka perilously in hand.
To be whole is to give as well as inherit — but to always choose the life you want // to be whole is to say sorry more times than you’d prefer –– and, by the age of 32, to mean it –– every single time.
To be whole is to build a life, ready to let it go at a moment’s notice // to be whole is to elevate the pedestrian to its rightful place — the holy // to be whole is to stare down the man six-foot-two and two-twenty –– and to know, with absolute certainly, how to bring him to his knees — even a full foot and hundred pounds short.
To be whole is to work and to revel.
To be whole is to shatter the mask and savor the marrow.
*Written work by Christina Mokwa – © Christina Mokwa/Mokwa LLC/Mokwa Creative Company
